The Cross
by Patcat
Summary: Around Alex's neck.
1. Chapter 1

Spoilers for this season. Inspired by a discussion at criminal_. Disclaimer: Standard

THE CROSS

Chapter One

She first saw it when she woke up from a nightmare in the hospital. It was after Bobby told her that Jo Gage was her attacker, and the crucial difference between this dream and the previous ones was that the dark shadow wielding the knife now had a face. The scream rose from her heart and reached her throat before she saw the bright reflection. Her interest stopped the scream, and she stared at the tiny gold cross hanging from a chain looped over a small knob on some piece of equipment. She slowly and cautiously reached for it. She winced as her healing muscles and skin protested, but the cross was low enough for her to reach without too much pain or strain. She didn't know a great deal about jewelry—it was, like frilly dresses and tea parties and shopping for shoes, something she apparently didn't get with her extra "X" chromosome—but she knew enough to recognize both the cross and the chain were made of fine gold and by gifted hands. It was beautiful, and she'd never seen anything quite like it.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Eames?" a nurse asked.

"Uh…Better…I think…" Alex coughed.

"Here…This'll help your throat." The nurse tipped a cup with a straw to her, and Alex sipped the cool, smooth water.

"Thank you." Alex settled back on the pillows. She did feel better. Her head didn't pound as much; she could move her arms and shoulders without as much pain. She slowly turned her head to look around her room.

"I think," the nurse said quietly as she took Alex's signs. "This may be the first time you've been alone since you were brought in. Someone from your family has always been here, or your partner…Mr. Goren, right?" She shook her head. "We finally convinced him to go home and get some sleep last night…Really early this morning…That's one stubborn man…"

"Yes…Yes he is," Alex said. She fingered the cross and held it up. "Do you know where this came from? It was hanging over me."

The nurse carefully examined the cross. "Well, it wasn't there when I came on my shift this morning and checked on you." She chuckled. "That was when several of us tag teamed Mr. Goren and got him to leave. Maybe you got a guardian angel that left it?"

"Maybe," Alex muttered.

"Would you like to wear it?" the nurse asked gently. "It shouldn't be a problem."

"Yes," Alex said, surprising herself by how quickly and strongly she answered.

The nurse carefully placed the cross around Alex's neck. "Well," she said as she made sure Alex was comfortable. "Wherever it came from, that's a very niece necklace. My sister works as an appraiser. I help her out a little, and I recognize that design. It's about fifty…sixty years old. It was often given as a First Communion or Confirmation gift to a little girl. The chain is probably a lot younger, but it's still very nice."

Alex tenderly fingered the cross. "I…I don't recognize it…I've never seen anyone in my family wear it…"

"Someone must think a lot of you," the nurse said. "Let's see about getting some breakfast into you."

Alex wondered about the cross for the rest of the day. When her family arrived to visit her, she expected someone to admit to placing it over her, but no one did. Her nephew Nate—who her sister had snuck in with the cooperation of the nurses—noticed it as he sat next to her on the bed.

"Pretty," he said, brushing it with his finger. "New?"

"I'm not sure where it came from," Alex said. "It was hanging over me this morning when I woke up. One of the nurses thinks it came from a guardian angel."

Nate nodded gravely. "We're talking about angels in Sunday school. Most of them don't have names. But St. Michael…He's an archangel…He fought the devil. He's the patron saint of policemen. That means he watches over them. Grandma said he must be very busy since policemen need a lot of watching over."

Alex smiled. "Yea…They do."

"Maybe St. Michael left it," Nate said.

It was very late, and her family gone when Bobby—grey, weary, slouched over and looking as if several subway cars had rolled over him—appeared. He stood briefly in the doorway as if apologizing for his existence. It was well past visiting hours, but the nurses had learned that Bobby would keep politely but firmly pressing to see Alex and that she would politely but firmly refuse to go to sleep until he was allowed to see her.

"Hey," she said. "You can come in, you know…"

He shuffled forward. "I…I'm sorry I'm so late…Work…And…"

"It's ok, Bobby. Come over here and sit down…"

He collapsed in the chair by her bed.

"God, Bobby…" Alex shook her head. "I think you look worse than me…You know, you can come when my family is around…"

Bobby shook his head. "I…I feel more comfortable…" He didn't want to let Alex know that the one time he'd arrived at the hospital when members of her family were present her mother had nearly risen from her wheelchair in anger and that her oldest brother had chased him to the parking lot. Her brother got one good punch in before Alex's father arrived to break things up. Bobby hoped Alex didn't notice the bruise that had risen on his left cheek.

She did, of course. "What happened to your face?"

"Uh…Something stupid…My fault…"

"Oh, Bobby…Did you push a suspect too far?"

"Uh…Yea…" He seized the explanation like a life preserver.

She smiled. "I can't leave you for a few days, can I? Ross must have loved that."

"Uh…I think Ross expected it. I think he feels better if I go ahead and screw up…"

The smile disappeared. "Don't do that, Bobby…Don't be so down on yourself…"

He stared at the floor.

"This was not your fault," Alex continued. "You know that…We've talked about this…"

He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced up at her. His eyes fell on the small cross, and some tension left him.

"This?" Alex fingered the cross. "This was hanging over me this morning. Nate thinks St. Michael left it. You know anything about it?"

Bobby's eyes fell to the floor again. "St. Michael sounds like a good candidate to me."

Alex strongly suspected Bobby knew a great deal about the cross, but she could get nothing further about the subject from him. She kept the cross on when she left the hospital and through the next months. Whenever the memories of her attack threatened her, she found that touching the smooth, cool gold calmed her. Her therapist commented on it.

"It's ok, Detective Eames," she said, when Alex started to protect. "I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been seeing you so much. It's very subtle, and if it helps you, it helps you."

It helped her a great deal. Alex began to wear it at night. Not only did it seem to ward away the worst nightmares, it offered her a great deal of comfort when she woke from one. In spite of its possible connections with Bobby, Alex continued to wear it through the days of his suspension and after, when her anger at him nearly consumed their partnership. It still offered her comfort, and by the time her nightmares had faded and their partnership repaired, wearing it was a necessity. She felt naked without it.

Kevin Mulrooney noticed it. "That's new," he said. "You never wore necklaces before. I tried to give you one…"

"That was a long time ago," Alex said. At the time she didn't know he was an obsessed, possibly psychotic, murderer, but everything Kevin said and did annoyed her. "And this is special."

"Why?" Kevin asked. "Who gave it to you?"

"St. Michael," she answered, and walked briskly away from him.

It was late by the time she and Bobby booked Kevin and sent him to the not so loving arms of the Rykers' psychiatric wing. Alex thought she'd never felt so tired. Her nerves felt raw like open wounds. She reached for the small cross and felt its smooth gold.

"Hey," Bobby said gently. "Ross says we can go…You want to get some dinner?"

"I…I…Oh, God…Bobby…I'm so tired…"

He lifted her coat from the rack and gently placed it on her shoulders. "You drove in today?"

She nodded.

"Let me drive your car to my place. I'll fix you some dinner…If you're beat you can crash there…Ok?"

Alex stared at her desk. She was so tired She was tired of being strong, tired of hiding her feelings, tired of dealing with her past. She wanted someone to take care of her. She wanted Bobby to take care of her.

"Ok."

He drove very carefully, as he always did when she trusted him with her car. He pulled into the small space behind his own car in the small area behind his house. Bobby hovered just behind her until they reached the door. He unlocked it, and took her coat.

"There's a bottle of wine in the fridge," he said. "And some iced tea and Cokes. I can fix coffee if you'd like, but I've only got high octane." He stood awkwardly for a moment. "Uh…What would you like? I can fix something quick…"

"How about a pizza from that place near here? I'm really hungry, and figure you must be as tired as I am. And I remember it being really good…"

"Ok…That sounds really good to me too. You can go into the living room. I'm going to chance a glass of wine. You…"

"Yea…That sounds good too." Alex padded towards the living room.

Bobby kept his home scrupulously clean and neat, and even as his life cascaded around him with his mother's illness and other travails, and his beard became scruffy and his clothes rumpled, his house remained clean and organized. So, Alex was slightly surprised to see stacks of papers and photos on the coffee table in front of the couch. As she looked at them, she realized they were neatly arranged and appeared to be pictures of Bobby and his family. There were heartbreakingly few of them, and Alex remembered Bobby remarking that his chaotic family life resulted in few pictures. A photo of a beautiful young girl of seven or eight dressed in a lovely white dress caught Alex's eye. She carefully picked it up and realized it must be a First Communion picture. From the dark eyes and the facial features, she thought it must be a picture of Bobby's mother. She turned the photo over, and a neat, precise handwriting confirmed her suspicions. Alex turned the picture over again, and the necklace around the girl's neck caught her attention. Her hand flew to the cross on her own neck as she stared at it. The two crosses looked exactly the same.

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Alex fingered the cross around her neck and stared at the photo. Although it was small, the cross appeared clearly in the photo, and, if it wasn't the same cross, it was certainly its twin. The chain was different—the one around Alex's desk was much longer—but the cross looked the same.

"It could be a coincidence," she thought. "It's probably a common design. You don't know if Bobby left it. And even if he did…It may not be the same one…Why would he leave me a cross anyway? He's a lapsed altar boy. He's the least superstitious man you know…"

She examined the photo. Frances Goren had been a beautiful child, with black curly hair and dark eyes. She smiled at the camera with a heartbreaking combination of innocence and hope. As Alex carefully returned the photo to its pile, another picture caught her attention. This one appeared to be from a later year and was in color. It showed a handsome boy of about seven or eight with dark curls and eyes not unlike the little girl's. He wore a white suit a smidge too big for him and a slightly askew bowtie. His hands were folded in front of him, and he stood in front of a church. The photo was clearly another First Communion photo, and the little boy was clearly Bobby. In contrast to the innocence and hope on his mother's face, Bobby faced the camera with a wary expression too old for his age. He smiled, but it was an anxious smile, the smile of a child who was smiling because he was supposed to, not because he felt like it.

Alex felt tears form in her eyes. "No child," she thought. "Should have that look in his eyes." She examined the photo more carefully, and saw a thin gold chain around Bobby's neck. It held a cross, one that looked very much like the one Alex had seen around his mother's neck and the one that now hung around her neck. Alex fingered the cross again. It certainly looked like the same cross. But was it? It it was, how did it get from Bobby's mother to Bobby to her? More importantly, why did it go from his mother to Bobby to her?

"Eames…"

Bobby's quiet, apologetic voice nearly caused Alex to jump out of her skin.

"Jeez…Bobby…You move like a big cat…" Alex hastily returned the photo to the pile.

"I…I'm sorry." Bobby carried two glasses of wine, and he held on out to her. "Uh…The pizza will be here soon…" His eyes focused on the pile of pictures. "I…I've been going through some old photos…My relatives in Minnesota…My great aunt had some things she sent me copies of…And I was sending her copies of what little I had…

Alex took the glass from him and took a long drink before she spoke. "I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to snoop…"

"It's ok," Bobby quickly assured her. "If I didn't want you to see any of it, I would've put it away or told you."

Alex couldn't shake the feeling she'd invaded Bobby's privacy. He motioned for her to sit down on the couch, and sat across from her in his biggest, plumpest chair.

"The cross," he said deliberately after a few moments. "It…It's the same one…The one you got on…It's the same one as the one in the pictures of my Mom and me…When I made my First Communion…My Mom was pretty good in the months leading up to it…She was coming out of her first bad breakdown. I was scared…confused…I remember I thought if I was really good…If I prayed really hard and was really good and made a good Confession and First Communion…My Mom would get better…She did for a while…That's not unusual…The drugs…They're very effective at first…But then…They have side effects…And if they work…A person starts thinking he or she is better and stop taking the drugs…And it takes more or more powerful drugs the second…or third…or whatever time…My Mom was good on the drugs…But about three weeks before my First Communion…She stopped taking them…And started to slip away. No one recognized it then. Anyone close to her…Got used to it…Knew the signs…Later…But then…" Bobby shrugged. "Most of my stuff was already ordered. My suit and my prayer book…I was really proud of myself. Sister Joseph said I was the best student in the class…"

Alex leaned forward. "I remember…I was the kid who kept asking the questions that drove the nuns nuts…My dress was a hand me down from my sister, but my Mom changed it enough that it was mine. And I got to choose my veil."

"I bet," Bobby said. "You were beautiful."

"You looked very handsome," Alex said. She tried to keep from fingering the cross.

Bobby stared at some point on his rug. "It was a little miracle. A week before my First Communion…My Mom was in bad shape. She'd stopped taking her meds, and she had a break. She…She was taken to the emergency room after she cut herself…She wasn't really trying to kill herself, but…I thought…I thought it was my fault…That I wasn't praying hard enough or being good enough…"

"Oh, Bobby," Alex said. She leaned forward. "You were just a little boy…"

"That's what Sister Joseph told me. I stayed after one of the religion classes and told her I couldn't make my First Communion. I wasn't good enough. I was bad. She…She was very kind to me. She told me what happened to my Mom wasn't my fault. She tried to explain to me what was happening—that my Mom was sick and that wasn't my fault. She was the first person who even tried to tell me what was going on. When I left her, I still didn't know if I was good, but she convinced me to go. My Mom…Once she got back on her meds, she got much better. She was able to come to the Mass. She was a little…A little out of it…And I was afraid…It was the first time I remember being afraid that she'd get upset and…and crazy…"

"No child should have to worry about that," Alex said.

"When we got to the church," Bobby continued. "We found out that all the other kids had gotten something from their parents…A religious medal or something like that…My Mom didn't have anything, and she…I could tell she felt bad…The man I thought was my father wasn't there, of course…I can't remember if Frank was. It…It really didn't bother me that my Mom didn't have anything to give me. It bothered me that it hurt her. We were getting ready to go in the church when my Mom took off the cross…She wore it almost all the time…And she put it around my neck. The chain was too long, but she fixed it somehow." Bobby sipped his wine. "I…I wore it for a long time. I had to get another chain for it. I got teased sometimes…It's more for a girl…But I just told people it was a gift from my Mom and it was important to me. I expected her to demand it back, but she never did."

His voice was soft and controlled, but Alex heard the strain in it.

"Why…Why did you give it to me?" she asked.

Bobby continued to stare at his rug. "I…I felt so helpless…You…You were hurt…I couldn't help you…I didn't protect you…"

"Bobby…"

"I know…I know. It wasn't my fault…I know that…Up here…" Bobby tapped his head. "But here…" He tapped his chest. "Is a lot harder to convince. And…You looked so vulnerable in that bed…And I knew…I couldn't protect you from everything…I couldn't protect you from me and everything around me…Hell, I can't even protect myself…I…I need your help…"

"I don't mind doing that," Alex said.

"You…You do a good job," Bobby said. "In spite of my best…or worst…efforts." He raised his head and managed to meet her eyes. "I knew I can't watch over you…I know you don't want me to…I stopped wearing the cross a long time ago…But I kept it with me…You know how I feel about religion…About my faith…Or lack of it…"

"You called yourself a hopeful skeptic," Alex smiled.

"Yea…But this cross…It was important. I know it didn't protect me, but I was glad it was there. And…When you were in the hospital…I wanted you to know you weren't alone…That someone was watching over you…Cared about you…It was really an impulse. I hung it over you." He couldn't look at her. "I…I hope you…I hope you didn't mind…I hope I didn't do something wrong…"

Alex fingered the cross. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and for several moments she couldn't trust her voice. She stood, walked to Bobby, and knelt before him. "Of course I don't mind. I thought it might have been you…But I couldn't figure out why…And then I saw it in the pictures…And got more confused…But…I understand now…It's a wonderful gift. Thank you."

Bobby shook with relief.

"But…Do you want it back?" Alex asked gently. "It was your Mom's…and…like you said…you need a lot of protecting…"

Bobby shook his head. "It's yours. If you give it away, it has to go to someone else you care about that needs protection. That's the rule."

Alex smiled. "Well, I think I'll be keeping this for a while. We both need guardian angels." She rested her hands on his knees.

"Even if St. Michael isn't available," Bobby said.

There was a knock at the door.

"Pizza," Bobby said.

"I'll get it," Alex said. Bobby helped her stand up. She turned to him before she left the room. "And we'll be fine. We'll watch over each other."

END


End file.
